


Don't Talk About Knight Club

by ailurus_alt (Ailurus_Fulgens)



Series: knight club [2]
Category: Dark Souls (Video Games)
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, POV Second Person, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, i will not apologize for the way i wrote this, you are ornstein and you get that d at a party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:49:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22917994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ailurus_Fulgens/pseuds/ailurus_alt
Summary: The party you're at is boring. The real entertainment is Artorias. That's literally it.
Relationships: Artorias the Abysswalker/Dragon Slayer Ornstein
Series: knight club [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1647226
Comments: 6
Kudos: 32





	Don't Talk About Knight Club

The party is dull, but somehow incredibly loud. This is the first thing that comes to mind when you try to describe it. Your armor is heavy against your skin, freshly polished for the event, and it feels unbelievably heavier now that you’re in the crowd than it did when you were admiring yourself in the mirror this morning, the shiny gaze of your helmet gleaming back at you. This morning feels impossibly far away. At this point, you’re not even sure what this party is supposed to be for. Probably some Earl or Lord or something, you don’t know. It doesn’t matter, anyways- You’re just here to look official, maybe eat a few desserts off the table while nobody’s looking at you.

You are the Dragonslayer Ornstein, and this party is  _ boring.  _

Your heartbeat picks up a little when you spot a flash of familiar silver and blue in the crowd. Artorias is weaving his way deftly through the throngs of the upper class, headed straight for the dessert table. You remember seeing the kind of thing he liked over there, even if you were distracted by the chocolate cake that tempted you into coming in the first place. (Whoever makes dessert in the royal kitchens has hands personally blessed by the gods.) You think about going over to the table to meet him. You don’t.

It's probably another solid half hour before Artorias comes anywhere near you again. You've stayed on the edges of the dancing, making occasional small talk with a royal or a dignitary. They ask you about the guard, or thank you for your service, but it's all a thousand things you've heard before. Your gaze drifts from your current conversation partner back into the crowd, and you see that distinctive flash of silver again. You end your conversation quickly, entering the fray to find him back at the dessert table, delicately picking up another blueberry tart with his metal talons. You give in to your fondness for chocolate and take another piece of cake, and he finally looks at you. 

“Good evening, Captain,” he says, the blueberry tart forgotten. You take some small pride in being able to distract him from what you know is his favorite dessert. 

“Good evening,” You respond, as professional as ever. You’re grateful for the way the helmets you both wear hide your expressions, even if you’re a little jealous that Artorias can still eat with his on… He catches your gaze despite the way your eyes are hidden. 

“Are you… not going to eat any of that cake, Captain?”

You startle a little, looking down at the plate in your hand. “Oh,” you say, “I suppose it would be difficult, since…”

“Tis no trouble, Captain. I know a place, if you would follow me there.” 

You nod, taking his hand as he offers it. The metal of your gauntlets barely clinks together- You’ve both become masters at handling yourselves in armor. You wear it almost like a second skin. He pulls you out of the main hall and down a hallway, then into a dark room. He fumbles with a match for a second, but manages to light a candle. It’s a bedroom, unused and empty, other than some slightly dusty furniture. 

“Is this suitable?” He turns to look at you, having already discarded the match. You nod as you sit down on the bed, reaching to take off your helmet, but his hands cover yours quickly. “Here,” he says, “Let me do it.” You lower your hands and he gently pulls the helmet free of your head, setting it next to you. Auburn hair spills across your shoulders in loose ringlets, which he gently tucks behind your ear.

“I should eat this quickly and then leave,” you say, taking the plate and fork back into your hands. “I shouldn’t be missing from the party for too long.”

“Nobody will notice,” Artorias replies evenly, sitting next to you on the bed. You stare into the almost bottomless shadow his helmet casts over his face. He catches your gaze again, quietly pulling his own helmet off and putting it next to yours. Artorias’s eyes are steel blue, and you’ll never forget it. You feel almost hypnotised by his eyes until he finally looks away from you, glancing down at the cake and smiling softly.

“Your cake, Captain?”

“Oh!” You’re jostled out of your admiration by that, remembering that you have a different reason for being in this room. You delicately take a forkful, putting it in your mouth and making an attempt to not feel self conscious with Artorias’s eyes on you. The cake is good, to say the least, and you’re actually glad you took the time to sneak back here to eat it. You would have never been able to take your helmet off in front of all those dignitaries, but here in front of Artorias it almost feels natural. 

You glance back down to where it sits next to you on the bed, metallic feline gaze cast blankly across the room. Artorias’s helmet sits carefully tucked next to it, their sides knocked together between your and your subordinate’s legs. As your sight continues to wander, you watch how the claws of Artorias’s gauntlets trace mindless patterns onto the tops of his greaves. His hood is down around his shoulders, and he seems to be trying very hard not to seem like he’s watching you too intently. You take another bite of cake and watch him carefully, a little amused by the way he pretends not to be looking at you as soon as you catch him. It feels a little juvenile, like schoolchildren, but it’s also a little sweet. You sigh when you realize how long you’ve been hiding from the rest of the party.

“I should be getting back. I am supposed to be making a good impression on the people.” You stand to gather your things and are startled when Artorias’s grip catches your wrist.

“I think you should stay,” he says, his gaze fixed on you firmly. It seems so much more intense now that neither of your helmets are in the way.

“Someone will notice that I’m gone. They’ll be wondering where I am.”

“I disagree, Captain.” He stands then, circling you until you’re turned with your back to the wall so you’re still facing him. “I think that they’ll all be too busy drinking their wine and talking amongst themselves to notice that we aren’t there to pretend to enjoy ourselves. Were you really having a good time out there?”

“No,” you admit, somewhat reluctantly, “But as a Captain it is my duty to make such appearances-”

“You’ve made an appearance,” he says, cutting you off and leaning in until your back is pressed against that wall behind you. “Now I’ll ask you this question, Captain… Would you rather be out there, or in here with me?”

You go almost perfectly still when confronted with this choice. The doorknob is just behind you, you could easily push Artorias away and slip back out into the crowd. Your helmet is tucked under your arm, cold and solid. You exhale slowly and look back at Artorias.

“I would rather be with you.”

He leans in and kisses you, capturing your lips gently. That gentleness quickly devolves into a hungry contest, you surging forward to meet him with as much force as he’s putting into the kiss, him kissing you back harder and finally coming forward to press you fully up against the wall, your legs interlocked, his hands at your jaw. The fingers of his gauntlets are cold and dangerous against your skin, but you know he won’t hurt you. His tongue laps against your lips and you open your mouth to him, desperately taking in whatever attention he’ll give you. A hand drops from your face and starts messing with the intricate clasps and buckles that hold your armor together, claws curling behind the smooth plane of your breastplate. You grab his hand with one of yours and pull it to the clasp he needs to undo first to loosen the piece, and your breath hitches as his claw catches it and he pulls it away. He nibbles at your lower lip as he pulls fully back to work on the rest of your armor, and you find yourself feeling like you need to make excuses to be here with him.

“The party was boring anyways,” you say decisively, watching the way his eyes flick up to meet yours from where he was working at your armor. “I’ll just have to go back  _ later,  _ is all I’m saying. That I should be there to say goodnight to people.”

“You honestly think you’ll want to leave  _ then _ ?” Artorias lets your breastplate clatter to the floor, swiftly followed by the rest of your armor. As he starts to kneel to work at your legs, you put a still-armored hand on the top of his head. 

“Wait a moment for that,” you say, and he sits back on his heels, waiting patiently like a dog that knows it’s being offered a treat. You move back to the edge of the bed, offering him the leg again. He kneels at your feet again, and you feel a small sense of pride as you watch him pull off your armor, his hands curling almost possessively around your calves as he pulls away pieces of cold, solid metal. The rest of your armor comes away under his hands and you lean back to watch as he removes his own suit. 

“Tell me, Knight Artorias, how exactly do you plan on making this more entertaining than the party outside?”

“Captain, I intend on making you forget that the party exists at all.” Artorias holds steady eye contact with you as he strips himself of the last pieces of armor, shed around him like scales, glinting in the dim light. You fix him with your best commanding look, and he dutifully pulls his shirt over his head, and then his breeches from his legs. He kneels at your feet again, fully exposed, fingers asking quiet permission to rid you of the rest of your clothes. Your tilt your head at him idly and nod, shifting forward into his hands. He undresses you as a reverent servant might; gentle, slow, and admiring you every second. He kisses your knee.

“What may I do, Captain?” He murmurs, lips still warm against your skin. 

“Prove to me that you can distract me from the party, and you will have  _ all  _ of my attention. Do whatever you wish.”

Artorias smiles conspiratorially at that, lips curling against your knee as he thinks of all the things he might be able to do to you. Slowly, he kisses a line from your knee up to the inside of your thigh, pushing your legs open a little wider and pressing his lips against the soft, sensitive skin there, unscarred by fighting or training. You sigh a little and lean back onto your hands, easily slinging your other leg over his shoulder as he lavishes affection over you. His mouth is warm as he works quickly to put a mark there, and you gasp when he nips you with his teeth. Artorias’s attention shifts from your thighs to your cock, already stiff and waiting for him. You moan when he laps his tongue over the head, taking you easily into his mouth. His hands clutch at your thighs, fingers digging in a little where he knows you’re sensitive. He manages to get all of you into his mouth, leaving you moaning and fisting your fingers into his hair. After a moment he pulls off a little, kissing your length gently. You scoff a little to hide how worked up you are. 

“Is that all you have? I have better things to be doing-  _ Ah! _ ” Your train of thought is derailed abruptly as he presses his fingers into you, already slick- He must’ve had a bottle of something on him, you hadn’t noticed in your attempts to be hard to get. The words in your head dissolve into pleasure when he curls his fingers  _ just so  _ inside of you, lifting your hips up to try to get him to press harder. 

“Captain,” Artorias purrs, “If you’d like for me to do something, perhaps you should see fit to order me to do so?”

Your other hand clenches the sheets tighter. “I don’t like your tone, Knight-”

“Then order me to change it. You  _ are  _ my captain, Ornstein.”

You writhe in frustration when his fingers go perfectly still, denying you what you want. He seems amused by this, much to your chagrin. “Then I  _ order  _ you to hurry up and fuck me!”

“As you wish,” he says, and he draws himself up between your legs, pushing you farther up on the bed. Your back rests against the somewhat impressive but unused stack of pillows, Artorias seemingly comfortable in his position on top of you. He smiles and leans in to kiss you, which almost distracts you so much you forgot what you asked him to do. It surprises you a little when you feel him start to push into you, rolling his hips into yours. You cry out and drag your nails down his back- He buries his face in your neck, pressing hot kisses to your skin and leaving bitemarks as he fucks you. When his mouth pulls away from you, you almost expect him to kiss you again, but he stays close to your ear. 

“Are you significantly distracted, Captain Ornstein? Is this… suitable?”

You whine and buck your hips up into his as he rolls into you with another thrust, hoping for some contact for your neglected cock. “Yes,” you gasp, head lolled back against the pillows, “This is  _ so  _ much better than that party-”

“Then you’ll never have to go back there.” He bites your earlobe and tugs softly, making you moan a little louder. “Besides, I don’t want anyone to see you like this but me… The noises you’re making, your handsome face… That’s all just for us, isn’t it?”

You nod, breathless, trying to gather your words. “Only you could make me fall apart like this-”

“Only I could pull you away from your duties?”

“Only  _ you  _ could make me think about giving up on my duties as Captain t-to-” Your breath hitches when his cock hits just the right spot inside of you, and you know he’s smiling without needing to look at him. You swallow roughly and try to continue. “To stay inside and fuck you all day until we can’t go on-”

“Oh, I think I’d like that,” Artorias purrs into your ear. “Maybe you should think about it a little harder.” He manages to know how to move to keep hitting that spot, making you nearly delirious with pleasure, arching your back up into him and clawing a little harder at his already marked back. 

“Ah,  _ fuck _ , right there-”

“As you wish, Captain.” He manages to be smug even while he’s fucking the coherency out of you, making you cum mercilessly, your vision whiting out from sheer overstimulation. You barely notice him finishing as well, burying himself deep inside you as he cums. You both lie there for a moment, breathing eventually evening out and slowing down, and he pulls out. You realize that this isn’t your bed, but you can’t find it within yourself to care, since Artorias settles next to you and pulls you in to cuddle up against him properly. You put your face in the crook of his shoulder and breathe in that deeply familiar smell of  _ Artorias,  _ all metal and sweat and something a little more mysterious, like the deepest parts of the forest. He’s got his nose in your hair, one of his hands idly combing through the longest parts of it. After a little while, he rests that hand on the back of your head, scratching at your scalp gently. Had it not been for the fact that you were in the guest room of a nobleman’s palace, you would have fallen asleep right there, holding Artorias and letting him hold you, finding peace in the solitude after practically getting your brains fucked out.

“We should leave,” you sigh, and you feel him murmur an acknowledgement above you.

“Back to the party?” He sounds disappointed; you find that a little funny.

“No,” you decide, “Back to your quarters. If we leave now, no one will know it was us.”

“It’s a good thing nobody noticed you left, then?” Artorias smiles against your hair and presses a kiss to your temple. “At least, I don’t think anyone did.”

“I don’t care about anyone else’s attention.” You look up at him, finding him looking down at you fondly. “I only want to be with  _ you,  _ Artorias.”

“I know,” he says, and he kisses you softly. You feel warmth bloom in your chest and you know that you are happy. 

**Author's Note:**

> yeah i wrote another dark souls fic for someone desperate for dark souls content. yet again i know nothing about dark souls. we are ignoring a lot of things here including the fact that 1) artorias & ornsteins massive stature is not mentioned nor dealt with 2) nobody dares talk in olde english and 3) i dont know shit about dark souls! whos party are they at? who the fuck are they talking to? where the fuck are they? i dont know! dont ask! 
> 
> anyways thanks for reading ! regards


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